


Just Once More

by LittleLynn



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crisis of Faith, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, moderate smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-02 00:19:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4040185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLynn/pseuds/LittleLynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Right now Ragnar appeared serious, wielding his practice sword against Athelstan’s far less experienced hand. He looked serious, but Athelstan knew that was only because he was concentrating so hard on not hurting him. </p><p>Really they were playing. Playing at war. Playing at love. Playing at faith and religion. Skirting around all these things that defined people. Waiting for one of them to decide to define the other, both cautious to make the first serious move. </p><p>So instead they played.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Once More

Athelstan often thought of that night, so long ago, when Ragnar and Lagertha invited him into their bed. He often wonders if he would accept now.

He is scared that he knows the answer, even though it would be a sin.

Although, he is not sure he knows what he believes anymore, if he even believes in sin anymore.

But much has changed since then, Lagertha and Bjorn are gone, have been for a few years, and though Ragnar loves his children beyond measure, it is hard, complicated, to say exactly what or how Ragnar feels about Aslaug.

It is not the same as it was when Lagertha was here, not necessarily worse, but not better either, and it takes Athelstan a while to get used to the new atmosphere in the household.

Ragnar often comes and sits with him, watches him work even though it is repetitive and boring, he starts to choose Athelstan’s company over everyone else’s. Athelstan is not sure what to make of it.

No. He knows exactly what to make of it, he knows why. But he is scared. With a woman between them it would already be a sin, but without…it would be unthinkable.

And yet Athelstan thinks of it.

He can never tell if it makes him question his god in favour of Ragnar’s, or if it makes him pray harder and longer instead.

He spends most of his days confused.

He focus’ on his work instead. That is easier, repetitive, mindless.

But when Ragnar sits beside him he always falters, stops his task, is drawn into conversation, that easy smile and those twinkling eyes pull him in.

“Little priest?” He hears Ragnar’s voice next to him, pulling him out of his reverie, he looks up to find those eyes boring into him. He feels completely bare under that gaze. “You seemed a hundred miles from here.”

“Yes, but only for a moment.” Athelstan smiled, turning back to his work.

“Where did you go?” Ragnar asked, voice full of that almost childish curiosity, wanting to know where Athelstan’s thoughts take him these days.

“Nowhere in particular. Just away.” Athelstan answered, weaving the wicker basket in his hands with the skill Lagertha had taught him.

“Away from me?” Ragnar sounded almost hurt, Athelstan knew it was only a tone he ever took on with Athelstan these days, he did not have it for Aslaug, and Lagertha was already gone.

“But only for a moment.” Athelstan reassured with the smile he reserved for Ragnar, small and intimate, hand squeezing Ragnar’s thigh gently, Ragnar trapped his hand with his own larger ones and toyed with Athelstan’s hand, rolling it over in his own. Athelstan didn’t mind.

“Did you go to your god?” He asked, pressing a kiss to Athelstan’s dirty knuckles as he turned his hand over to stroke down his fingers.

The wicker basket lay forgotten by Athelstan’s feet.

“I do not know.” He replied honestly.

“Is he still your god.”

“I do not know.” Athelstan said again, he had never been able to be truly dishonest to Ragnar, he didn’t know why. Ragnar bounced his head in a slow nod, something was bothering him. “Why do you ask?” Athelstan nudged gently.

“I do not want your god to take you away from me.”

“He couldn’t.” Athelstan said simply, without even thinking, he knew it was true the moment he had said it even though it was a sin.

Ragnar lit up.

God would have to forgive him.

Ragnar ducked his head towards Athelstan and he froze, all at once completely alike and unlike the timid monk that had first been brought to these shores. Only now he did not have the strength to say no.

“May I?” Ragnar requested, his usual playfulness lacing through his voice.

Athelstan nodded. It would hardly be the worst thing he had done since being brought here by Ragnar.

One last sin. Just one more. He let himself be drawn into a kiss.

God would have to forgive him for a lot of things.

\--------------------

Ragnar was teaching him how to fight, he wanted him to be able to go on raids with him. He was the only one Ragnar trusted wholly.

Athelstan wasn’t going to spit in the face of that, he knew what it meant.

“Of course I will go with you.”

He would go, raid his own country, kill Saxons, _Christians_ , God would never forgive him. But still he would go, if only for the look Ragnar had gotten when he agreed. England didn’t feel like home anymore anyway, he’d been away far too long, he was not the same.

Kattegat did not feel like home either, he did not fit in in either place anymore.

He was drifting, Ragnar the only thing that kept him tethered. Sometimes he thought he did the same for Ragnar, but it was so hard to tell with him, hard to tell when he was being serious and when he was just being playful.

Right now he appeared serious, wielding his practice sword against Athelstan’s far less experience hand. He looked serious, but Athelstan knew that was only because he was concentrating so hard on not hurting him.

Really they were playing. Playing at war. Playing at love. Playing at faith and religion. Skirting around all these things that defined people. Waiting for one of them to decide to define the other, both cautious to make the first serious move.

So instead they played.

And Athelstan did not know what was real and what was not.

He parried a set of Ragnar’s attacks, well aware Ragnar was moving far slower than he would usually and grateful of it. The other Vikings may tease him for being slower and weaker than a little girl, but it did not bother him. He was still learning, he had never been a warrior before.

He had never been a lot of things before that he was now.

Warrior. Viking. Unsure. Sinner.

If he even believed in sin anymore.

He did.

He hated himself so he wouldn’t hate Ragnar.

He could never hate Ragnar, even when he had wanted to.

Athelstan parried more attacks and even managed a few of his own against Ragnar, grinning when he caught him with slightly more force than Ragnar thought him able yet, forcing Ragnar to stumble back just a step.

He saw a glint in Ragnar’s eye and a smirk on his lips and the next thing Athelstan knew he was on his back in the dirt with Ragnar over him, his small wrists caught in one of Ragnar’s big hands, the rest of him trapped by the Viking’s weight atop him.

And still they were just playing. Playing at some many things.

They were oblivious to anyone who might be watching. They didn’t matter, not in this space, this charged space between Athelstan and Ragnar. No one else mattered there. The only thing that did matter were the sparse inches between them.

“I have caught you little priest.” Ragnar grinned, and Athelstan rolled his eyes at the old nickname never sure if he liked it or not, he was fairly sure he only liked it when Ragnar said it. Then it was brimming with affection, when any of the others used it, it was an allegation. But not from Ragnar, never from Ragnar.

“You cheated.” Athelstan said, but his face and eyes were only filled with smiles.

“You dare call your Earl a cheater?” Ragnar replied, his voice was teasing and those eyes were sparkling at Athelstan and God would have to forgive him.

“When he says he will only use moves he has taught me against him and then knocks me to the floor with a trick so swift I could not even see it then yes I do.” Athelstan pointed out, trying to ignore just how much he liked the warm, heavy weight of Ragnar atop him.

“Our little priest is the only one brave enough to stand up to the big bad Earl.” Ragnar grinned, leaning over him.

“I am the only one who could get away with it.” Athelstan replied and suddenly they caught eyes and stilled and they weren’t playing so much anymore.

“Yes you are.” Ragnar agreed easily and then he stooped down and kissed Athelstan right there in the dirt out in the open, surrounded by people. But Ragnar didn’t care, so neither did Athelstan. “Last time I caught you I took you into my house.” Ragnar stated when he decided he had had enough for kissing, at least for now.

“Indeed you did.” Athelstan answered. He would never forget that day. At the time it had seemed like Ragnar had flipped his world upside down, now Athelstan wondered if he’d really just finally turned him the right way up.

“Do you ever wish I had not?” Ragnar asked and his thumb was stroking gently over Athelstan’s wrist.

“Not in a very long time.” Athelstan said honestly, although he would still find it hard to say out loud exactly how quickly he had stopped resenting Ragnar and starting loving him instead, even if it took him a while to admit it to himself.

“Good.” Ragnar grinned stealing another kiss, he had stolen a lot from Athelstan only to always give it back tenfold. “Last time I caught you I invited you into my bed. If I did that again what would you say now?”

“Okay.” Athelstan told him, barely pausing to think about it, it was easier not to think about it, just to accept what he wanted to and accept that he was weak.

They made each other weak, but they also made each other impossibly strong. He felt like he could conquer the world when Ragnar kissed him, he felt like he would want to.

He was a sinner. If he even believed in sin any longer.

A beam broke out over Ragnar’s face at Athelstan’s unwavering response, further cementing his choice in his mind.

If he couldn’t believe in his God or the Viking’s Gods, then he would believe in Ragnar instead.

He wished it was that simple.

But he still believed in sin, he just wasn’t sure if he cared, because anything could be awaiting him from God, and this right here and right now would still be worth it, Ragnar would still be worth it to Athelstan.

Ragnar hopped to his feet and offered Athenstan a hand to pull him up.

One last sin. Just one more. He let himself be tugged up and playfully towards Ragnar’s tent.

\--------------------

Ragnar had given him the choice, and he had made it, and seeing the surprise and hurt in Ragnar’s eyes had almost been enough to change his mind.

But it wouldn’t be for long, not in the grand scheme of their lives, Athelstan would come back with King Horik after having helped establish the Viking colony. He wanted to see Ragnar’s hopes for this land come to fruition, he wanted to help him, and he could do that best by staying behind.

He almost expected Ragnar to leave without coming to see him. Athelstan wasn’t sure he would be able to cope with that. He would probably end up boarding the boat if Ragnar did not come to say goodbye, if he really had hurt him that much, he couldn’t have Ragnar angry at him. Every god of every people could be angry with him, but not Ragnar, he couldn’t cope if Ragnar was angry with him, if he had hurt him.

Because he could and they both knew it. Both knew that the only one who could hurt the great Viking Ragnar, was Athelstan, the little priest that Ragnar hadn’t been able to kill.

Ragnar came tearing into his tent after night had fallen on the camp, there were only thin walls of fabric between them and the rest of the camp, but it gave them the illusion of privacy, that was all they needed.

“How can you leave me! Is it so easy for you?” Ragnar demanded, crowding up close to Athelstan, he smelt faintly of some beer or mead, he was angry because he was hurt but Athelstan hadn’t meant to hurt him.

Athelstan also thought he was angry because he was scared.

“I am not leaving you.” Athelstan reassured, pressing his palms against Ragnar’s chest gently, drawing him in more than pushing him away.

“Yes you are. You are leaving me for your god and your England and a group of people who I do not trust and will not protect you like I will.” Ragnar said, his voice sounded desperate his hand squeezing at Athelstan’s arms, like he was seriously considering carrying him off all the way back to Kattegat.

“I am not leaving you.” Athelstan repeated, trying to soothe Ragnar with his voice and his hands firm on his chest. “You have to go back for your sons, so I am staying here to try and secure _our_ England and when I have, I will come back, I will always come back, you have to trust me. And you are always protecting me Ragnar.”

“How can I protect you if I am not here?” Ragnar demanded, hands gripping onto Athelstan’s arms now, firm but not enough to hurt, never enough to hurt, not Athelstan.

“You taught me to fight. You are always protecting me.” Athelstan replied and Ragnar deflated a little, hands letting go of Athelstan’s biceps and slinging his arms around Athelstan, pulling him close and burying his face in Athelstan. Burying himself in Athelstan.

“You will come back?” Ragnar asked again, voice muffled in Athelstan’s neck.

“I will always come back for you.” Athelstan told him, and he wondered when it had become Athelstan who came back for Ragnar, when Ragnar became the one that followed, followed his little priest. He did not want them to follow each other, he wanted them to walk hand in hand, forging out together, but that would have to wait until they were together again. “Do you trust me?”

“You are the only one I trust. I will have no sleep until you are returned to me.” Ragnar sincerity cut at him, he pushed closer, like he was trying to climb inside Ragnar’s very skin.

“You should sleep. Shut your eyes and I will be there. Calling to you in your dreams.”

“Do you promise me?” Ragnar asked, tilting Athelstan’s chin and resting their foreheads together, so tender in his every move, so careful in a way he wasn’t with anyone else, as if Athelstan was still the mouse he found in the monastery at Lindisfarne, and any sharp movement might send him skittering away. 

Nothing could scare Athelstan away now.

Ragnar was a heathen and a sinner and yet Athelstan loved him anyway.

Athelstan was a sinner too now anyway.

He found it hard to care in these moments.

He sought Ragnar’s lips and kissed him.

“I always promise you.” Athelstan replied, stroking his fingers down Ragnar’s cheek and watching as the great Viking leant into his touch.

“May I?” Ragnar asked as his hand pawed at Ragnar’s clothes, he always asked for permission, like he was sure that Athelstan was going to re-find his god and tell him no one day.

Athelstan wasn’t sure if he had lost his god or not. But he knew that he did not know how to say no to Ragnar. And he knew that he did not want to.

And as Ragnar pressed him down into the furs, so gentle with him even when they were rough, Athelstan could not call it a sin.

Ragnar trailed lines of kisses up his neck and nibbled on his ear, he licked at his navel and hummed as he bit lightly into the meat of his thigh and kissed his most intimate areas. Athelstan felt like he was being worshipped, but then, he did the same to Ragnar.

Perhaps they did not need any gods at all. In these moments it felt like it. He knew Ragnar thought it too, that all they really needed was each other, everything else was surplus.

And When Ragnar slid into his heat Athelstan would gasp and Ragnar would swallow his moans in deep kisses because those noises were just for him, no one else was permitted to hear them.

It was like the other times and it was completely different. Gentler but more desperate, painfully intimate, leaving him feeling like he was breaking and being fixed at the same time. Ragnar would always put him back together. Athelstan would always put Ragnar back together.

They weren’t really kissing anymore, just sharing breath not moving from each other, unwilling to have any distance between them, even as Ragnar’s thrusts sped up and he started to unerringly hit the spot that made Athelstan see stars, he knew well where it was by now.

Athelstan spent between them with a cry that Ragnar swallowed greedily in a kiss, Athelstan holding onto him even as is body came down from his high, wrapping Ragnar up in him and collapsing together when Ragnar finished inside him.

They lay together panting and unwilling to separate, it would be a long time before they saw each other again. It would be a long time before Athelstan could sin again.   

He felt a dark trepidation as he lay in Ragnar’s arms about the coming day. Ragnar felt him shiver and pulled him impossibly closer.

\--------------------

He felt the nails being hammered into his hands and he screamed from the pain but he was relived because he knew.

He knew it had been worth it.

That he would do it all again.

That he would love Ragnar all over again if he was given the chance to go back to the start, even knowing where it would lead him.

\--------------------

They had not had time when they saw each other so briefly, Ragnar clearly only walking him out of the camp through fear of his safety, but he kissed him anyway, he wanted to melt into his arms and forget England and know only Ragnar, but first he had a job to finish.

When he came back to the Viking camp Ragnar held onto his leg on the horse. He thought Athelstan might not come back with him.

It had been a long time.

But they would always come back for each other. They would always go back to each other.

And he did, he left his crucifix and the comfort of the English and all his roman treasures. He left it all for Ragnar. And he would do it all again exactly the same.

It had been a long time.

The camp was quiet as Athelstan approached, the sun setting, they would be gone early in the morning, he could see the boats were already ready.

A figure sat in front of the entrance to the camp, digging an axe into the ground.

Athelstan caught the blue eyes despite the distance between them. They looked like they had not twinkled in a long while.

Ragnar was up and running towards him within seconds, running like a man possessed, like a man who could not believe what was in front of him, like Athelstan was a spectre that might disappear if Raganr didn’t catch him.

He caught him.

Athelstan buried his face in the crook of Ragnar’s neck, inhaling the scent that he missed so much, he smelt like battle and fire and dirt and _Ragnar_. Athelstan was crying and it was like a damn breaking, he couldn’t stop it once it had started, helpless against the sobs that wracked his body.

Ragnar cradled him in his arms as they crumpled to the floor together. His own tears far quieter than Athelstan’s, but he could still feel them wet in his hair.

“I should not have let you stay.” Ragnar said, voice weak. “I thought that I would never see you again.”

“I know.” Athelstan had thought the same, it had made him hate his god, now he apologised to his god for his past hatred and for what he was about to do again.

What he would always do. He could never help himself. He loved Ragnar.

Time apart had only sharped the feeling, had done nothing to dull it, it had never physically hurt before, and he hoped it never would be painful for them again.

“But I came back for you.” Ragnar said, clinging to Athelstan with no sign of letting go.

“Yes, you did.” Athelstan confirmed, holding onto him back just as desperately.

“I feared you dead for so long. I would have come earlier but I could not do it alone. If I could I would have rowed all the way from Kattegat. I almost did a few times.” Ragnar told him and Athelstan did not doubt it.

“Horik said that you were dead and had betrayed them but I never believed it. Not for a moment.” Ragnar reassured him, as if Athelstan could believe he had done anything different.

“How did you know I was alive?” Athelstan asked, hands aching in old pain when they remembered how close to death he had been.

“You told me in a dream. You kept your promise. You did not abandon me.” Ragnar spoke more softly now, breath tickling Athelstan’s hair and making his smile more content, less frantic.

“I wouldn’t know how. I wouldn’t want to know how. Even in death I would not know how to abandon you.” Athelstan replied and Ragnar was rocking him gently now, rocking them both, it was comforting, it had been a long time since Athelstan had felt true comfort like this, he knew it had been for Ragnar as well.

It was a comfort they found only in each other.

“Do not speak of your death.” Ragnar more pleaded than demanded. “I do not wish to think on death, on losing you again when I only just got you back. I will never lose you again.  I will keep you by my side and keep you safe. No one will hurt you again.” Ragnar promised and Athelstan knew that he couldn’t guarantee these things just as much as he knew Ragnar meant his words with his entire soul.

Finally Athelstan’s lips sought out Ragnar’s, he had missed them, he had missed everything about him. He lost himself in him so easily, like it had only been days and not the countless months that had passed. He never wanted to let go or stop kissing him, it made it feel like he had never lost him.

Absently Athelstan was aware of Ragnar lifting him, but Athelstan didn’t really care where they were going because Ragnar’s lips had never left his own. He was being put down on a bed of soft grass and moss behind the treeline, he could hear the babbling of the river next to them, it was an oasis he could exist in forever.

He could exist anywhere forever so long as Ragnar was there with him.

Valhalla. Heaven. Hell. Some obscure underworld. He wouldn’t care so long as Ragnar was with him.

Ragnar’s hand’s had slipped under his clothes, stroking over his skin in that reverent way of his, worshipping him with his hands, his lips.

“May I?” Ragnar asked as he always did as he kissed at Athelstan’s neck like it was a delicacy he had missed and wanted to savour forever.

“Please.” Athelstan practically sobbed and Ragnar took him into his arms.

He couldn’t call this a sin. He wasn’t sure if he believed in sin anymore.     

\--------------------

Athelstan had ran to find Ragnar is his house in Kattegat and had told him outright for the first time since those first days, so very long ago, that he had found his god and couldn’t recognise the Norse gods any longer and Ragnar had smiled.

He had smiled and told him he couldn’t leave and had told him that he loved him.

They had never said it in words, not out loud, not to each other, though now Athelstan could not say why. It was true, it was simple and it was true.

Athelstan had found his god.

And it was a god that allowed him to love Ragnar and Him. He didn’t want Athelstan’s guilt, he couldn’t condemn Athelstan just for loving.

That was not a god Athelstan wanted and it was not the one he had found.

He had found his benevolent god again, he had been so long lost of Athelstan, so long lost to violent Christendom.

Ragnar would follow him wherever he went, he did not care which god Athelstan did it under and he looked on the brink of converting himself. Athelstan knew that his main reason for this would be himself, Ragnar did not wish them parted, even in death, and Ragnar had said he would follow him wherever he goes, why should the afterlife be any different? He did not believe death could stop Ragnar following him, he did not doubt that Ragnar would tear through every afterlife ever imagined to reach Athelstan.

He did not care what gods Athelstan believed in, because he only believed in Athelstan now.

His bracelet was gone. And Ragnar kissed his wrist all the more reverently.

This time it was Athelstan who tugged Ragnar towards the bedroom, beckoning him down onto the furs with him

“You can you know, I want you to.” Athelstan encouraged between kisses, pressing Ragnar’s hand under his clothes.

“I thought you found your god again, as I recall he thinks this a sin?” Ragnar half stated half asked as he trailed his fingers down the side of Athelstan’s face.

“Not the god that I found.” Athelstan told him, breath catching knowing that Ragnar would have followed him anyway, whether he could have him or not, he still would have followed him. “I would never be able to love a god who tried to take you away from me.” Athelstan murmured cupping the back of Ragnar’s head and drawing him down for a kiss. “I would not let him do it.”

“I would not let any god do it either, they could never keep me from you.” Ragnar told him, and Athelstan believed him. There was a pause as Ragnar pulled back and caught his eyes, his icy blues twinkling just as Athelstan loved. “May I?” He asked.

“Please.” Athelstan breathed and Ragnar laid him down in the furs as he had done so many times in the past.

Their bodies intertwined, fingers linked, foreheads touching, legs tangled and completely pressed together, as close as it was possible to get to someone else, stripped bare in more ways than one and sliding together so perfectly Athelstan could not believe they had not been made for each other.

He loved those eyes. They were the window in Ragnar’s soul and Athelstan was the only one he trusted with the openness for him to read him. To Athelstan they belied more than his mischief and playfulness. He could read Ragnar’s every mood through them, and he could do it because Ragnar let him, trusted him.

He loved Ragnar’s hands, so gentle with him, the way they could do delicately trace every line of his body or make him open up for Ragnar knowing that they were also lethal, that they wielded weapons with deadly malice when facing down anyone he considered an enemy. They were calloused from a hard life, but Athelstan had always found them soft.

He loved Ragnar’s mouth, his easy smiles and soft kisses, his cutting words and passionate bites. The trails Ragnar’s  mouth dragged down his body, making him feel like a king, like a divine thing himself, worthy of worship, and he imagined that to Ragnar he was, just liked Ragnar was to him.

He loved Ragnar’s strength that could so easily be used to kill but also defended and defended fiercely.  Brute power that had claimed many lives and spent countless afternoons swinging his songs around and holding Athelstan up.

He loved Ragnar’s beard and the way it ticked and scritched him, his determination that drove him forward, forced him to get what he wanted, and he wanted Athelstan, and they wanted Paris and together they would take it. His playfulness and cunning, his love for his children, his curiosity and his acceptance.

Athelstan loved Ragnar and he couldn’t stop saying it, but it was okay, because Ragnar was saying it right back and they should have been saying it for so much longer but they were saying it now, an avalanche of emotion and things that they no longer wanted unsaid.

They said it all.

But mostly, they said each other’s name.

Cried and moaned and whimpered and murmured and shouted and whispered and promised.

They said it all, but mostly, they said each other’s name.

\--------------------

As Athelstan lay in Ragnar’s arms while the Viking slept, he felt more at peace than he had been in a great long while, no, than he had been ever. He knew who he was. He was a Christian who loved a Viking. And maybe it wasn’t as simple as it felt in that moment, but right then and there, with Ragnar’s strong chest against his back, it was _so_ simple.

He couldn’t believe it was a sin. It could not feel like this if it was a sin. He didn’t mean the carnal pleasures, he meant the way he felt whole and warm where he had been empty and cold for so long, he felt like he was finally home. And it turned out home wasn’t a place at all, wasn’t a monastery or a country or a bible; it was Ragnar’s breath on his neck and his mischievous smile and sparking eyes and Athelstan’s hand in  Ragnar’s larger rougher one.  

He didn’t want it to be the last time. He had finally accepted that. He didn’t want it to happen just once more, and he didn’t want it to be a sin.

How could love be wrong? How could his god, his benevolent and kind god call this wrong.

He didn’t want it to be the last time.

And that was okay.

Athelstan was a Christian, he would pray to his god, the true benevolent god that had come to him pure as light, and he would renounce the Norse gods and spread the word of god and he would love Ragnar.

He would love Ragnar.

He couldn’t help it anyway. And he didn’t want to either.

And he knew what he would do if his god wanted him to choose, Him or Ragnar. Athelstan would do the same as Ragnar had already done, unwavering and sure, without it even being a question, Athelstan would pick Ragnar.

He did not want it to be the last time. He never wanted there to be a last time.

 

But that time, it was.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I binge watched all three seasons of vikings and am now Athelnar trash as well as Barduil trash, huzzah! 
> 
> I am on [the tumbles](http://obithefabulous.tumblr.com/) where prompts are always welcome :)
> 
> Thank you for reading <3


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